You focus the scanner's quantum filters on the tumbling black case, the machine whining in protest as it reassembles the fractured memory at molecular resolution. The case rotates in suspended animation, raindrops clinging to its surface like liquid mercury. As the scanner penetrates the memory's deepest layers, the case's lock mechanism becomes transparent, revealing its contents with shocking clarity - rows of crystalline data chips glowing with an eerie crimson light, each stamped with that same red hourglass emblem.

Suddenly, the memory reshuffles violently. Now you're seeing through Tanaka's eyes as he crouches behind a dumpster, watching through the gaps as the blurred woman opens the case. The crimson glow illuminates her determined face just long enough for you to see her lips form the words 'Project Chronophage' before the memory distorts again. The scanner picks up a secondary memory fragment attached to the case - a fleeting image of a towering corporate ziggurat with a massive digital countdown projected across its obsidian surface, the numbers ticking backward at impossible speed.

Back in the present, sweat beads on Tanaka's forehead as his body reacts to the recovered trauma. The mnemo-scanner alerts you to dangerous cortisol levels as it stumbles upon one final memory shard - a close-up of the woman's hand pressing something into Tanaka's palm before the gunfire starts. The scanner can't fully reconstruct the object, but its shape suggests a data wafer of illegal military-grade encryption.